The Fragile
by amberlove871
Summary: "You are so kind and gentle; I did not realize that you are still suffering- that you are still so fragile."
1. Prologue

Valeriya loved everything about winter, especially now that she lived in Russia.

She loved it when the snow fell from the overcast sky and a blanket of white snow covered every possible surface, she loved sitting by her little fireplace with a hot cup of tea, and she definitely adored wearing all of her cozy winter coats. The glacial climate had always brought her great comfort, rather than the irritating heat that summer had to offer.

Oymyakon, a small, Russian village inhabited by only a little over four hundred individuals, is one of the coldest places on planet Earth. With a permanently frozen ground and sunlight for only three hours a day during winter, the place looked like the perfect setting for a post-apocalyptic movie. Stories were often told of the temperature once dropping to almost one hundred degrees below zero– but visitors never seemed quite surprised to hear this. During the brutal winters, villagers somehow lived off of reindeer meat and rabbit stew because everything else just died off. Most people did not own cars out of fear that the battery would just freeze or they would get in a fatal crash on the snow covered roads. Cell phones and other forms of technology didn't exist in a place like this; living in this village was like living on another planet.

If there was ever a place you wanted to go after faking your own death or even if you just wanted to fall off the face of the earth, Oymyakon was the place to do it. Everyone was too busy struggling to survive to give a damn about your background, what crimes you have committed, or even your name for that matter.

A clean slate.

That's what SHIELD had promised her after they tossed her away like one does with a piece of trash.

She couldn't quite blame them though– even she knew there was something wrong with her mind; some type of chemical imbalance that had been causing all of the dark thoughts in the back of her brain to surface. Natasha had noticed how her sleeping pattern became erratic, how she had gone eight months surviving on only an hour of sleep every night, sometimes no sleep at all. Clint would observe her on missions, watching silently as her dark eyes would gloss over and her mind went to another time and place. Tony and Bruce had noticed her dramatic weight loss and how every bone in her body seemed to become more and more prominent against her sickly pale skin or how she was drinking more alcohol than she used to.

People had started to look at her like she was a psychopath.

Who knows? Maybe she was.

_Maybe she still is._

Certainly there were nights where it felt like her head was about to spontaneously combust- thoughts of malevolence and rampage lingering on the forefront of her mind. Never in her life had she felt such an overwhelming sense of bloodlust, the desire to make another human being suffer just like they had done to her once in her life was so overwhelming sometimes. Nightmares and terrors plagued her dreams; she could feel their hands all over her body, poking and prodding at certain areas, taking down notes whenever she cried out in pain or responded to a treatment in a peculiar way. She would spend countless hours thinking of all the ways she could kill those men; she wanted it to be as slow and painful as possible.

Yes, she wanted all of those men to suffer.

Valeriya Checkhov was not a ruthless person though.

In fact, she actually had a soft and kind personality compared to most SHIELD agents.

_No_, Valeriya did not take pleasure in killing people and whenever dark thoughts would cross her mind, she would remind herself that she was still a human being.

Despite what most people thought, she was an unbelievably emotional individual- or at least she used to be. She had been a skilled assassin and did her job effortlessly, but that didn't mean she was cut out for that life. Unlike many of her former comrades, she didn't have a cold personality and always let her conscious get the best of her. There were times where she would come back from missions and suffer in solitude, crying out in pain when the realization that she had killed another human being finally set in. Director Fury always tried to convince her that they had been the enemy and that they had been terrorists and murderers, but that never really eased the pain.

Was she any different?

Killing people was almost just as easy as breathing for her; doesn't that make her a murderer too?

Even now, as Valeriya walked the eerily silent streets of the little village, her mind was flooded with flashbacks of the incident that had landed her a life of complete solitude in the coldest place on Earth. She knew SHIELD would never take her back after the things she had done; _those horrible things she had done-_ the crimes she had committed were unforgettable and unforgivable. Valeriya wished she would have been sentenced to death; it would have been a lot easier than dealing with the everlasting guilt and the hostile glares SHIELD agents constantly gave her.

She no longer had to worry about that though—it's not like she was ever going to see any of them again.

Valeriya stood underneath a dimly lit streetlight and watched as snow relentlessly attacked the small village.

It was quiet and peaceful though, the only noises coming from the wind rustling tree branches and her quiet breathing.

What a strange place to call home.

The Winter Soldier couldn't remember a time in his life where he had been so cold.

At this point, he was really starting to despise winter.

Though he knew he hadn't been born in Russia, he had definitely spent a lot of time in the vindictive region and knew just how harsh the climate could be in the winter- _but this was different_. Seemingly every muscle in his body was taut as he tried to warm himself up, even the sensors in his bionic arm were going into overdrive and he longed to find a warm place to sleep; but he had a mission and he had to find the familiar woman from his nightmares.

_The girl with the sad eyes._

It had been the first time he was going on a mission on his own terms; he hadn't been ordered to eliminate anyone or bring them back to the Hydra base for interrogation, nobody had threatened to put him in a cryogenic stasis if he failed this mission, and he didn't have to worry about them wiping his mind anymore.

He was finally doing something for himself.

The soldier pulled his metal hand out of the pocket of his coat, observing the crumpled photograph that he had been using as a reference for the past seven months. A girl with blonde hair stared right back at him; her dark eyes seemed to contrast deeply against her pale skin and light hair. She had been with Steve Rogers that day in D.C. and every instinct in his brain told the soldier to kill her, and he almost had. Bucky remembered wrapping his metal fingers around her throat, watching with misery as she attempted to breathe as he squeezed the life from her. He had been incredibly frustrated when she didn't struggle against his grip; she had merely accepted that she was going to die because of him and she was alright with that. A part of him didn't want to kill her, but he had been ordered to kill Steve Rogers and anyone else that got in his way. He remembered hearing Captain America begging for him to stop as the light faded from her eyes, but he didn't listen. Her eyelids had started to flutter, the colour had drained from her face, and her bow-shaped lips were pulled into a pained grimace as a few tears slipped from her dark brown eyes.

Then the girl reached up and had touched his cheek with her cold fingertips.

He remembered.

Not everything, but enough to know that he had once known the girl and she held some significance in his long forgotten memories.

She had once worked with Hydra too?

James Barnes shook his head as the thought crossed his mind; he remembered the look on the girl's face when Brock Rumlow had carelessly tossed her into a cell across from his holding room. It was the same expression he had seen on many of his victim's faces right before he killed them- fear. That had been so long ago though, but Bucky couldn't be quite sure how long. Time had always been a foreign concept to him; ten years sometimes felt like ten days to the soldier.

But he remembered her facial features so vividly.

Even when they painfully wiped his mind clean, her sad face continued to haunt him nearly every day. It got to a point where he thought something was wrong with him; maybe his handlers weren't wiping his mind enough, maybe they needed to make the treatments longer and more intense, maybe he was just broken.

_Broken..._

How come he never forgot about her?

The Winter Soldier isn't supposed to remember things from his past, and he's definitely not supposed to have conflicting emotions.

There were nights where he would pass her cell, listening to her whimper and sniffle as she tried to contain her sobs; it was the first time the Winter Soldier ever felt guilt or pity for another human. She had been a lot younger back then, her cheeks had been a little chubbier and she had clearly been going through an awkward teen phase what with the metal braces attached to her teeth and the few blemishes on her chin and forehead. There was a certain innocence to her that just seemed so extraordinary in a dark place like that Hydra base and for whatever reason, it caused a dull ache in the soldier's chest.

James' head started to hurt as other memories resurfaced from the depths of his mind; they were awful memories and the girl with the sad eyes were in all of them. She had been screaming out for his help, _but why_? Were they hurting her? His eyebrows pinched together as he desperately tried to remember what Hydra had done to her. She had been so young at the time... Hydra wouldn't hurt someone so innocent just for fun, would they?

The soldier frowned and continued walking through the quiet village, focusing back on his mission. After showing the photograph to a few villagers, he finally got word from an elderly man saying she lived on the outskirts of the village in a small wooden cabin with a blue mailbox- that detail wasn't very important though, considering a heavy layer of snow and ice seemed to cover ever single surface for miles.

He made a left turn off the path he had been walking on and froze in his tracks.

James squinted his eyes and looked at the figure that was standing a few yards away from him, right under a streetlight- as if she wanted him to see her. She was tiny—more so than he remembered. He must have had a good ten inches on her and at least ninety pounds or so and she was quite thin, Bucky noticed. They were all characteristics that seemed completely opposite of an assassin and Bucky thought she looked rather… endearing? He advanced closer until he could see her facial features better, confirming that it was the same woman he had seen months before. Her hair was darker now and fell to the centre of her back in a thick french braid that she would occasionally pull over her shoulder and play with. The dark locks were nearly the same shade of brown as her eyes and she was certainly a lot paler now from the lack on sunshine in this part of Russia. His eyes scanned her mournful expression, noticing how she suddenly seemed more emaciated and exhausted than he remembered; the dark circles under her eyes left James with the impression that she hadn't been getting nearly enough sleep lately. They both had that in common and he knew that horrible memories must have consumed her thoughts at night as well, keeping her awake until some ungodly hour in the morning.

Despite living in such a brutal climate, she looked warm– like she was used to this type of weather.

Like she was especially designed for it.

James watched closely as she wrapped her fur coat tighter around her dainty frame and pulled the giant hood over her head; revealing a bow and set of arrows that were securely strapped to her back, along with a string of dead rabbits. The corner of his lips twitched in the slightest bit- clearly she wasn't having any trouble surviving all by herself, without SHIELD. She gazed up into sky, observing the dark abyss for a few moments before continuing her small journey back to her residence. There was something so graceful about the way she moved quietly through the snow; she still moved like an assassin, James noticed. Every step she took was well thought out and perfectly calculated, her head held high and her dark eyes searching for any targets even though she knew she wasn't going to find any. It was one of the many aspects of being an assassin—always being on the lookout for any suspicious suspects.

Bucky felt sorry for this girl, because as he continued to follow her in the complete and utter isolation that this village had to offer, he realized something that even made the Winter Soldier's heart ache.

Valeriya Checkhov was quite possibly the loneliest girl on the face of the Earth.


	2. The Lost

Valeriya knew there was someone in her house the moment she opened the front door.

Whether it was SHIELD or Hydra, she wasn't sure.

Ignoring the small puddle of water on the wooden floorboards, she advanced further into her home. Unfortunately for her, Valeriya didn't quite care if the intruder was also an assassin who wanted to kill her; she had already accepted the fact that death was inevitable and she would welcome it with open arms. Instead of pulling out one of the many weapons she had on her, she sauntered through the main room and into the kitchen as she normally would, not acknowledging the intruder in the slightest. After lighting a few candles and carelessly tossing the string of rabbits onto a cutting board, Valeriya shrugged her large fur coat off and kicked her boots off as well. She craned her neck to the side, listening to the sound of her bones cracking in the silence of her house, bringing relief to her stiff muscles.

Then she heard the shuffling of another human being a few feet behind her.

She smirked, "If you're going to kill me, you might as well do it now and make it quick."

Silence.

She rolled her eyes and went on with her day like she normally would.

Valeriya pulled out her pocket knife and proceeded to skin the rabbits, a skill she had acquired when she had first moved to Oymyakon and started to hunt for her own food. She enjoyed hunting and she took comfort in knowing that she could provide for herself in the worst case scenario. Plus she knew she was damn good shot with a bow and arrow; she couldn't even remember the last time she had missed her target. Who knows? Maybe someday she would be more skilled than Clint.

Valeriya heard a soft sigh from behind her and then the intruder finally spoke.

"You don't remember me."

His voice was so quiet– Valeriya wasn't even sure she heard him correctly.

She slowly turned on her heels, setting the bloody pocket knife on the counter next to the rabbits. In the darkness of her home, she squinted her eyes and tried to get a good visual on the tall man. She stepped closer, pulling her lighter out of her pocket and flicking it open. The flame illuminated the side of his scruffy face; his eyes were scrutinizing her every move, but he definitely wasn't going to attack her based on his relaxed stance. Much like Valeriya, there were dark circles underneath his eyes and it looked like he wasn't getting much sleep either. His shoulder length hair was mostly a knotted mess, a few matted strands falling in front of his face. He wore a black pea coat with a belt tied around his midsection, concealing the Hydra uniform he still wore underneath it; what caught her attention was the faded red star on one of the sleeves. Valeriya lowered her gaze to his gloved hands, finally noticing the pocket knife grasped loosely in his metal hand– if he wanted to attack her, he definitely would have done it already.

Her stiff posture finally relaxed.

How could she forget him?

"James Barnes," She smiled softly, "You're a long way from home, soldier."

He placed his knife in his utility belt and visibly relaxed as well, "I've been looking for you."

"And how's that been working out for you?"

"Took me seven months to find your exact location," He grunted, "You're a very hard woman to find."

"Yet here you are."

She crossed her arms over her chest and met his profound gaze; even though he had found his target, he still looked so lost. His eyebrows were pinched together in confusion; his stormy blue eyes searched Valeriya's face frantically– as if he was still confirming that she was actually standing in front of him. He resembled a cornered animal and though he knew he was safe here, _for the most part_, he was still terrified.

"Sit," Valeriya ordered, pointing to the raggedy couch in the main room, "Take your coat off and try to relax, you're safe now. You're cold and hungry; I'll cook up something warm for you."

James stiffly nodded; his fingers trembled as he undid the belt and metallic buttons on his coat and cautiously tugged it away from his body. Was it safe to get comfortable in such an unfamiliar setting? Did he really trust this girl? What if she was going to tell SHIELD his whereabouts? What if—

"Also," She started to speak from her spot in the kitchen, "I accept your apology for trying to kill me on that helicarrier back in D.C., no hard feelings at all."

He had heard that tone of voice before- _humour_?

"I thought I had killed you," He spoke quietly, _remorsefully, _"I hacked into SHIELD's database a week later and found your file, your status said you were still alive but that you were missing."

She shrugged, "I was unconscious for a couple of days, nothing too major."

"Why did you run away?"

Valeriya scoffed, "I _did not_ run away, SHIELD—or at least what was left of SHIELD, fired me."

James remained silent upon this revelation; he had thought for sure that after the events that took place in D.C., she had fled the country because she was scared. He had thought she was scared of being captured by Hydra again, or maybe she thought the soldier was going to come after her and finish her off. Clearly his theories had been way off though. Valeriya wasn't scared of dying anymore, that had already been established when she didn't attack him after he had broken into her house. However, James was now curious as to why SHIELD had fired one of their best agents.

Judging by the bereaved expression on her face, she didn't want to talk about any of that.

So he didn't ask.

Valeriya knew that he was watching her while she stirred her concoction in a large pot on top of the stove; she tossed in pieces of rabbit meat into the stew and made her way back to the main room. He watched as she readjusted a few pieces of firewood in the fireplace and struck a match, lighting a fire to warm up the house. James winced as she grabbed a fur throw from the arm rest of the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders securely; he immediately started to feel warmer.

"Take your boots off," She demanded, "You'll warm up faster, trust me."

_Trust me..._

He repeated the words in his head- when was the last time he had fully trusted someone?

He thought about his handlers back at the Hydra base, _but no..._ James had never trusted them. They had always just been a means of getting through his missions; he never would have even considered talking to them about the thoughts that had been running rampant through his mind. Alexander Pierce had most certainly been a person he thought he could trust at one point, but he had been so terribly mistaken in thinking something so absurd. No, he had been nothing more than a weapon to Pierce, _'a gift to mankind',_ he had once been referred to as.

_Steve_...

Steve Rogers!

They had been friends at one point in his life, at least that's what James had put together from the pieces of his memories. Steve Rogers had been in many of his memories, but it couldn't have been the same man he fought in D.C.? No, the man from his memories was smaller, skinnier, and definitely not as strong as the man he had been ordered to kill. The man hadn't always been known as Captain America; what had happened that turned the sick little boy into some sort of herculean man?

A loud groan fell past his lips as the back of his head started to ache.

Valeriya frowned and moved closer to help the frightened man, but he held up his hand, motioning her not to come any closer out of fear that he would snap and hurt her unintentionally.

He didn't want to harm anymore innocent people— he couldn't bear the thought of having any more blood on his hands.

Instead, she stood perfectly still and talked to him as the ache gradually started to fade away; he had no clue what she was rambling on about, but her voice was relaxing and gentle and that's all that really mattered to him. James lifted his head and blinked the blurriness away from his vision. Rather than the darkness he had become so accustomed to seeing after having these painful flashbacks, he was met with a pair of dark brown eyes and the emotion he saw in them was completely foreign to him... _was that a concerned expression on her face? _James frowned, why would this girl be concerned for him?

He tensed up as she knelt down in front of him, her nimble fingers easily unlaced his boots and she swiftly stood back up, ordering him to take his boots off once again. This time he didn't hesitate, he listened to her orders as if one of his handlers or Alexander Pierce had just given him a mission; but that wasn't the case anymore. Valeriya wasn't mean or vicious, she wasn't going to harm him or threaten him—unlike his handlers.

James Barnes remembered her kindness from his memories.

He remembered a warm, soft hand cupping his cheek in the complete and utter darkness of the cell they had kept her in. The soldier wasn't supposed to be in there, but it was the only time he could remember being genuinely curious about one of Hydra's prisoners. If there had ever been a time in his long-lived life where he had been both appalled and even a little horror-stricken, it had been when he first saw a young girl lying in a gory heap on the cold floor in a lonely Hydra cell. She didn't cry as the soldier cautiously approached her, but her eyes grew wide and fearful as he knelt down next to her, inspecting the cuts and bruises on her face. One of her dainty little hands reached out for him, as if asking for his help, but then her fingertips touched his cheek and he was shocked to find that his instincts weren't screaming at him to kill the innocent looking girl.

Then she spoke... but James could never remember her gentle words.

Even now, when he felt safe enough to sleep and Valeriya would make appearances in his dreams, her words always seemed to blur together. It had always been frustrating beyond belief and he always tried his hardest to remember what she had said to him that day—to the point where his head actually felt like it was about to implode.

God, he just wanted to remember everything about her.

Every word she had spoken to him... every look she had given him.

_'Please just let me remember.'_

"Dinner should be ready in about an hour," She interrupted his thoughts, "Until then, how about we get you all cleaned up, yeah?"

James glanced at the woman wearily before nodding his head.

* * *

Valeriya had accomplished many difficult tasks in her short life.

She had killed some of the world's most feared terrorists, traveled to the darkest depths that this world had to offer, and worked alongside some of the most skilled assassins on the planet. She had participated in several civil wars, taking part in toppling regimes and assassinating tyrants and dictators. Learning different languages came as naturally to her as a sponge absorbing water and she could recite formulations, equations, and interpretations that she had learned in her quantum mechanics class in a heartbeat. Despite her petite stature and her warm and kindhearted demeanor, most of her peers had learned early on that she was not one to be messed with.

However, none of that seemed to matter as she struggled to comb out all of the large knots that had accumulated throughout Bucky's disheveled hair. One would think that nothing would phase Valeriya Checkhov, but the current task at hand was genuinely starting to stress her out. The soldier remained completely uncommunicative and motionless as she sat behind him on the mattress that pulled out from the couch, seeming perfectly at ease even though she was painfully tugging the comb through his damp hair. At this point, it seemed as though this whole experience was more painful to Valeriya than the soldier who was going through it.

Valeriya had managed to find a pair of sweats from the depths of her closet that were a couple sizes too big for her and let James wear them instead of the uncomfortable uniform he had previously been wearing—there was no way in hell she was going to let him sleep in all of that chunky leather material. Now, his utility belt and other weapons were sprawled out carelessly on the coffee table, looking completely out of place next to all of her lit candles. His torso was completely naked as he absorbed the heat coming from the fireplace and Valeriya had definitely noticed the way he tried to conceal the scars where his lustrous metal met his fleshy shoulder.

_Like she even cared._

It wasn't as if she didn't have her own scars, but she could understand his insecurity and made sure to not even look in the same direction as his bionic arm.

"There we go," She whispered as she combed through the last knot, feeling grateful that she didn't have to put the poor man through any more pain. James slightly turned his head and gave her a nod, wordlessly thanking her for helping him.

"Would you like some more food?" Valeriya offered, eyeing the empty ceramic bowl that he was grasping in both of his hands—but he simply shook his head and set it on the little table in front of the mattress. She readjusted her body so she was sitting cross legged in front of him, staring into his eyes. There was no expression upon his features, his eyes were completely vacant and his thin lips were pressed into a straight line—if anything, he looked incredibly exhausted from his long journey.

"Why are you here, Bucky? Not that I don't mind the company or anything."

The corners of his lips tugged downwards into a frown, "I didn't know where else to go."

"What about Steve?"

He shook his head almost agitatedly, "He makes my head hurt... I can't look at him without seeing all of those memories."

Valeriya leaned forward with a frown and rested her elbows on her knees, "Your own memories are hurting you?"

"Mostly the ones with _him," _His frown turned into a scowl, "I see them all so fast... none of it ever makes sense to me. Sometimes there are other people in my memories though, but they are all strangers- the only face I ever recognize is yours."

"I'm in your memories?"

That had definitely peaked her curiosity.

There was no way this man could possibly remember her from over ten years ago, when she had essentially been a child then. How could he remember _anything _after all of the torture he underwent? Though her heart ached at the mere thought of someone going through that type of pain, she was still wondering what part she played in his memories. Did he remember all the horrible things those people had done to her?

All this time spent living in solitude and Valeriya had forgotten she was a human being with real emotions.

Which is why she was shocked when James' face became blurred as her own eyes started to burn with tears.

"Yes," He answered cautiously, "I do not remember everything that happened, but I remember Hydra capturing you and..."

He turned his head away and closed his eyes; the sentence lingered in the air hauntingly.

"You helped me escape," Her voice trembled, "You found out what they were doing to me and you helped me escape. I asked for your name and you told me it was the Winter Soldier- I had to see you that day in D.C. to confirm that it was really you. I was given the orders to kill you or capture you the first chance I got; they knew Steve Rogers would have hesitated."

"So did you."

She smiled weakly, "I couldn't do it... not when I saw the look in your eyes, not after I realized what you had been through."

"I almost killed you," He reminded her, "You should have never hesitated."

Valeriya simply shrugged, "I just couldn't do it, I'm sure you understand."

Bucky ignored her statement.

"What did Hydra do to you? What did they want from you?"

He noticed the way every emotion left her face as he asked her those questions; clearly it was a sensitive subject for her to talk about. She stared out the window next to the couch and watched as snow continued to cover the village, but it was obvious that her mind was in another place. It was a look he was well familiar with and he decided it was best not to pull her out of her own thoughts; he had no clue if she would react violently or not. As he observed her guardedly, he continued to wonder what Hydra had done to her... but the look on her face seemed to speak louder than words ever could. They had done awful things to her and Bucky wasn't sure what was worse; the thought of Hydra trying to turn her into a weapon much like they had done with him, or torturing her for information. Had they experimented on her like they had done to him? What if they had used electroshock therapy on her to make her forget about her past as well? Did they plan on putting her in a cryogenic stasis once they had accomplished brainwashing her as well?

"That's a story for another day," She said, standing up from the mattress and grabbing both of their bowls, sauntering towards the kitchen. James noticed how she suddenly seemed so... _tormented_, with her head hanging low and her shoulders slumped.

He frowned, for some reason he didn't like seeing the woman so sad.

Valeriya walked past him and left the room for a few moments, returning with a couple of pillows and fur blankets in her hands.

"Sleep now," She tossed the pillows onto the mattress and set the folded up blankets next to where he was sitting, "There's a city about thirty miles west of this village, we'll ride there tomorrow when the sun comes out and get you some warmer clothes. I don't know how long you plan on staying, but if it's more than a week, you're definitely going to need more clothes."

"You don't have a car," He reminded Valeriya.

The corner of her mouth lifted up into a smirk, "I sure hope you know how to ride a horse, Bucky Barnes."

* * *

Hey everyone! Thanks for reading my story, I hope you all enjoy it so far :)

I plan to update two times every week, unless there's a short chapter and I post another one to make up for it. I have almost the entire story written already, so there's really no excuse for me to not update consistently lol.

Thank you to those who have already followed or favourited this story, it means a lot to me and feedback would always be greatly appreciated as well! :)


	3. The Defected

Hey everyone! Thanks for reading and I hope you're enjoying this so far :)

I just wanted everyone to know that I rated this story M because there's going to be quite a few dark situations that might make some people uncomfortable, a lot of swearing, and eventual smut. I've already written most of this story and I can say that there's definitely going to be a lot of explicit details in later chapters; I didn't really plan for it to be that way, but it just kind of happened. I'll be sure to add in any trigger warnings on any chapters that might have content harmful to some people, just in case.

Again, thanks for reading :)

* * *

"You're doing it again."

Bucky's gaze flickered towards the woman who had been quiet for the last hour; she kept her eyes on the snow-covered path in front of her as she navigated her horse around a few large rocks with ease. She wore the same fur coat he had first seen her in and a wooly gray scarf was wrapped around the lower portion of her face; her bow and arrow were both strapped to her back and ready to be used in case she happened to spot a stray animal. A couple of burlap sacks full of frozen meat hung off of her horse's saddle; she had explained to Bucky that meat could be sold for money or other goods and that's why she was constantly on the lookout for animals to hunt.

"Doing _what_?"

"You're going into soldier mode again," She explained, "Scoping your surroundings, being paranoid that someone is following us, ready to strike at any given moment. I told you earlier that we're safe here, even SHIELD doesn't know of my whereabouts and I can assure you nobody would ever guess that you're here with me."

She allowed her horse to pick up the pace a little, breaking out into a little trot that James' horse seemed to mimic.

"I know it's in your instincts to always be conscious of your surroundings, and that's fine, but you really don't have to worry about anyone following us."

"You are sure of this?" He inquired, not quite believing the words coming from her mouth.

"I'm positive," She reassured him, finally tearing her gaze from the path in front of her.

James could tell by the way her eyes crinkled slightly that she was smiling at him from underneath her scarf.

He couldn't look away.

The look in her mocha coloured eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen and something inside of his body seemed to burst, filling him with an unfamiliar warmth that he had never experienced. Despite their dark colouration, her eyes seemed so bright and warm. It was like she was comforting him without even saying anything, and it was certainly working.

Unfortunately for him, she eventually broke the little staring contest they had going on and returned her focus back to the path—making sure there weren't any obstacles that her horse could get injured on. The pair of assassins continued to make their way to the city that Valeriya has previously spoken of. Even though she had told him not to worry, Bucky couldn't stop himself from scoping out the area every once in a while. The mere thought of Hydra following him or Valeriya made his heart pound against his rib cage, especially when he thought of the condition he had first found her in upon Hydra capturing her years ago.

James wouldn't let that happen again.

Not if he could help it.

"Look," Valeriya pointed to a couple buildings in the distance, "We're almost there."

He followed closely behind her, feeling slightly apprehensive as his horse sped up considerably faster. He couldn't remember if he had ever ridden a horse on any of his missions, but after watching his smaller companion easily pull herself onto the equine's back, he simply mimicked her actions and went along with it. He was almost certain the enormous animal didn't like him—it would occasionally neigh at Bucky in an agitated manner, or refuse to turn in a certain direction when needed, but Valeriya was always there to help him out and calm his horse down.

Bucky quickly scanned his surroundings as they entered the city, searching for any unusual activity or shady looking people. However, most people moved out of the horse's way and kept their heads down as they scurried around the marketplace, searching for certain items in particular and yelling out prices in their native tongue. Some people would occasionally glance at him, noticing how differently he was dressed and how he stuck out like a sore thumb. In front of him, Valeriya gracefully swung herself off the horse, motioning Bucky to do the same.

"Just stay close, alright?" She grabbed both of the horse's reigns in either one of her hands, leading them to where a couple of other horses were tied up to a wooden boarding area next to a trough of water.

He listened to her, staying right behind her as she led him through a few shops and exchanged the meat in the burlap sacks for other types of food, even buying a few carrots for the horses. He noticed the way her eyes crinkled and filled with complete delight as a small shop owner offered her a large sack of rice and potatoes for some of her rabbits; clearly it had been a while since she had eaten anything but meat and beets. Now, Bucky watched guardedly as she conversed with one of the merchants of a clothing shop in fluent Russian, talking like she had lived in the country her entire life. Even though he was fluent in the language as well, he struggled to keep up with how fast she was speaking—almost at a frantic pace. Valeriya held up one of her burlap sacks, explaining the contents of what was inside before requesting a trade for some of the clothes that the small store had to offer. A sour look spread across the middle-aged man's face and Bucky glared at him before he could open his mouth to decline Valeriya's offer.

"Here," Valeriya spoke in Russian, "Take all of the reindeer meat _and _what I have left of the rabbit meat too."

She tossed him the sack, her eyes never leaving his face as he peeked into the bag and looked at her with wide eyes and a shocked expression. Valeriya knew how harsh the winters could be for those who didn't know how to hunt—honestly, this man needed the meat more than she did. A toothy grin spread across his face and he clapped his hands together, thanking her profusely and offering her his 'eternal gratitude'.

Valeriya sifted through the stacks of clothes, pulling out thermals and wool socks and scarves. He merely nodded whenever she asked for his input on an article of clothing, not really caring how he looked as long as he was warm. He listened intently as she explained how the key to staying warm during the winter was to wear multiple layers of clothing instead of wearing just one really thick layer of clothing. She tossed the numerous pieces of clothing into one of her empty sacks and when she was finally finished picking out all of his clothes, she tightened the drawstring on it and smiled at the merchant.

"Thank you for your generosity."

He nodded happily, "Come back soon."

Valeriya waved goodbye to the man as she cheerfully ventured back to where they had left their horses, completely unaware of how Bucky was observing her with an amused expression. She slowed her pace until he was walking right next to her and her eyes crinkled once again as she gazed up at him.

"Now you won't be so cold anymore."

"I never was," He retorted stubbornly.

She rolled her eyes, "Bullshit, I saw how cold you were last night. How long had you been walking around the village anyways? I'm surprised you didn't get hypothermia or pneumonia."

Bucky didn't answer her question and their conversation came to a quick end as they approached their horses.

"What the hell," Valeriya muttered at the sight in front of her.

A man, who only looked to be a few years older than her, was gripping the reigns of James' horse, unsuccessfully trying to tug him away from the trough. Bucky tensed as Valeriya approached the man, grabbing him roughly by the back of his coat and wasting absolutely no time in yelling at him in Russian.

"That horse belongs to me," She hissed, yanking the reigns from his grasp, "I won't let you steal what is mine."

"He doesn't belong to you anymore," The man said decisively, reaching out to take the reins once again. Bucky stepped forward, ready to take the man out when he saw his other hand lift up, ready to strike Valeriya.

Everything happened so fast that even Bucky almost missed it.

Valeriya had pushed the dazed man down onto his chest in the cold snow and was gripping his wrist tightly, holding it in a painful position behind his back. Her knee was digging into the base of his spine and James noticed the look of immense discomfort on the man's face—_serves him right_.

"_I said," _She snarled, "The horse belongs to me and I won't let you take it. Do you understand me now?"

She twisted his wrist, nearly breaking the bones as she waited for the man to answer.

"Yes!" He cried, "I understand, I'm sorry."

Valeriya instantly released the man, rolling her eyes as he continued to gasp in pain. She grabbed both of her horse's reigns and walked away from the scene. This kind of behaviour and activity was pretty normal in the city; she had learned a long time ago that thieves were around every corner, waiting for any opportunity to get their hands on someone else's livestock or food. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, but it looked as though nobody had really noticed or taken interest in the events that had just taken place—not like it even mattered. News was never a big deal in this part of Russia; burglary and assault happened on a regular basis, but it's not like anyone would ever hear about it on TV or in the newspaper.

Society couldn't give two shits about what goes on in this part of the world.

She glanced at Bucky who was trailing not too far behind her, staring down at his boots as he thought hard about something.

Valeriya slowed and came to a stop as they exited the city.

"What are you...?"

He grew quiet as she pulled an article of clothing out of the sack she had tied to her horse's saddle.

"I can tell you're cold," She murmured, gently wrapping the wool scarf around his neck, "I know it's only a scarf, but it really does make a difference."

He wanted to say thank you, but for some reason he just couldn't find the courage to speak.

Why was she being so nice to him?

_He had almost killed her back in D.C.._

"By the way," She smiled sheepishly as she climbed onto her horse, "I'm usually not that violent, at least not anymore. It's just... I've been taking care of these horses for months now and working hard to keep them strong and healthy, I don't exactly take kindly to people trying to steal them."

"He got what he deserved," James said quietly and hesitantly got back on his horse as well.

Then she said something that he never really would have expected her to say.

"Most people don't."

Bucky wasn't sure why the statement surprised him—perhaps it was the hint of bitterness he detected in her low voice, or the darkness that seemed to flash through her eyes. Though he had only been with her a short amount of time, he had never really seen Valeriya truly angry or upset; she always seemed to have such a calm, relaxed demeanor in everything she did. James knew that having that sort of personality was just a part of being an assassin. You're never really supposed to show your emotions and talk about what's on your mind, just get the job done and move on with your life.

But Valeriya was completely different and she wanted revenge.

Bucky nearly smirked as he stared at her back—he _almost_ felt bad for the people that had hurt her.

He knew just from the tone of her voice that someday, every person who had ever wronged her would be crushed under the weight of her wrath and nobody would be able to stop her.

"Can I ask you something?" Valeriya glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised as she waited for him to respond.

He merely nodded.

"Brock Rumlow..." She started, instantly catching Bucky's interest, "He's still alive, isn't he?"

He couldn't lie to her, even as much as he wanted to do so in that moment.

"Yes, Brock Rumlow was pulled from the rubble that day in D.C., he was in critical condition and spent weeks recovering in the hospital and was released after a month. There are speculations that he is still working with what is left of Hydra, however, I am not certain of his current location."

She stared at him, almost harshly—her eyebrows pinched together in the middle and her eyes narrowed in the slightest. For some reason he didn't like that expression, he liked it better when she was smiling and the corners of her eyes would crinkle with happiness. She slowed her horse down until they were slowly trotting side by side together, never breaking eye contact.

"You want to kill him."

It wasn't a question; Bucky could easily see it in her eyes.

Rumlow had done something horrible to her and she wanted to make him suffer.

"I know what it's like," He spoke quietly, capturing her attention, "That type of hatred, wanting to torture someone who hurt you badly. Don't let it consume you and turn you into a different person; I know you want revenge but you can't think about it all the time or else it will change you."

"Is that what happened to you?"

He ignored her question and stared straight ahead, "You are a good person Valeriya, don't let the dark thoughts in your mind control you."

"What if I can't stop it though? What if I can't control those dark thoughts?"

"You can _always _control it."

* * *

"So how much do you remember? Anything from before working with Hydra?"

Valeriya sat across from Bucky on the floor in front of the fire place, her legs crossed and a bowl of borscht resting on top of her lap. He didn't acknowledge her as she asked the question, choosing to stare at the crackling flames instead. His eyes looked sad and his face worn out; years upon years of doing countless missions, taking orders from ruthless strangers, and constantly being tortured had finally taken its toll on him. She couldn't even begin to imagine what this human being had been through and how painful it must have been to remember all of the horrible shit he underwent. Valeriya's blood boiled and she wanted to kill every single Hydra agent that had hurt the man currently sitting in front of her- nobody deserves to live a life like the way Bucky had lived his.

This had been a normal human being at one point in life; filled with promise, curiosity, and excitement for the future.

All of that had been ripped away from him the moment Hydra found him on the brink of death.

"I remember the war... and falling into the snow," He explained, "H-He tried to save me, Steve Rogers. I remember losing consciousness in the snow, thinking I was going to die—instead, I woke up in a laboratory, strapped to a table surrounded by strangers. My arm was gone and they had replaced it with... _this."_

He glared at his bionic arm, curling his fingers into a tight fist as violent memories continued to play on in his head. James didn't want to tell her how the first thing he had done upon waking up was strangling one of the scientists with the metallic appendage they had given him.

As if he had been born a killer.

"That wasn't even the worst part."

"What was?"

"Whenever I finished my missions and they didn't need me anymore, they just stuck me in that _freezer_," He hissed, "I always knew it was inevitable; I was merely an asset to them all along and was never considered more than a weapon... but I hated it when they put me in that thing."

"Were you scared?" She asked, the expression on her face soft and even a little sorrowful.

"The Winter Soldier does not have emotions and he does not fear anything," He spoke almost robotically, as if Hydra had told him this on a regular basis.

Valeriya scowls at him, "I'm not talking about the soldier, I'm talking about Bucky Barnes—who does have emotions and is capable of fearing things. It's okay to admit that there were moments where you were scared, where you felt all alone and even had doubts about yourself; it only makes you human."

"I am not human."

"You could have killed Steve Rogers a long time ago; you hacked into SHIELD's database to see if I was dead or not, you traveled thousands of miles and came to the coldest place on Earth just to talk to me. I don't care what you, or anyone else thinks… you are not just some weapon of mass destruction or Hydra's greatest asset; you _are_ a human. You feel pain and sorrow—I can see the guilt in your eyes every time you mention Hydra and all of those things you did for them. Don't you dare think for one second that you are any less of a human being because of all of the things that have happened to you; that was all out of your control."

Bucky continued to glare down at his hands, thinking of all the innocent lives that he had ended with them. Had he been human then? Surely he didn't feel anything when he was squeezing the life from his victims; if anything he enjoyed knowing that he had successfully completed his mission. Hydra had convinced him that all of those people he had been ordered to killed were a threat and that they needed to be eliminated, but now he wasn't so sure. A lot of them had been SHIELD agents... but SHIELD were supposed to be the good guys? He frowned as the thought of being ordered to kill Valeriya crossed his mind and he was grateful it had never come down to that.

Then he recalled one mission in particular.

It had been one of the many times he doubted Hydra's morals.

"I remember this one mission," He started, his voice sounding far away, "I had been given the orders to kill an important politician and his wife and any other witnesses or threats who were to get in my way. It was approximately midnight when I broke into their house... they were sleeping and I shot the man in his head. His wife woke up immediately and before she could even scream, I shot her in the head too. I made it look like the man had killed his wife and then committed suicide; I was about to leave through the window, but then I heard crying from down the hall. I went to investigate—to make sure there were no witnesses, but I found a baby instead."

He turned his head and stared into the fire once again, that night playing on repeat in his mind.

"What did you do?" She asked quietly.

"Hydra had told me to eliminate any witnesses, _any threats... _and it was crying and screaming so loud that it was giving me a headache. The thought of killing it crossed my mind, but the baby did not seem like a threat at the time. It couldn't even talk yet so it could not have been a witness, so I did not kill it... I just left it there. I had no desire to kill that small thing and I thought there was something wrong with me—that maybe I was defected. I got back to Hydra's base and gave them the full report of my mission, I remember Alexander Pierce being furious with me when I told him about the baby. He ordered my handlers to make my mind wiping treatments longer and more intense, and then I was to be put in the cryogenic stasis until I was needed again."

"I still think about that mission quite often though," He whispered solemnly, "Another agent was most likely given the orders to go back and finish what I could not do—kill that infant, but I am grateful that it was not me who had to do it."

Valeriya did not speak, so Bucky kept his head down as he was afraid to look at the expression on her face. He didn't want her pity and he certainly didn't want her to look at him as though he was a monster, even though he knew he was. The sound of the flames crackling in the fireplace was the only thing that filled the silence.

Then he heard a sniffle and when he looked up there were tears falling from her eyes.

"I'm sorry they put you through that," She whispered, "That you had to even think about making a decision to kill a baby. Nobody deserves that type of pain... that _guilt_."

"Did you ever have to make that kind of decision?"

Valeriya lowered her head as she thought about all of the excruciating decisions she had ever made in her life.

"Yes, a few times."

Bucky noticed the dark expression on her face, "Did you... were you ever given the orders to kill someone you didn't want to kill?"

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"I killed them," A few tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, "Sometimes I didn't have a choice... sometimes I did, but it was always hard to do it. 'Don't really know how I made it out alive half of the time, by the time SHIELD fired me, I was done physically and emotionally. When I first got here, I must have done nothing but sleep for days. I wasn't eating and my immune system was starting to shut down on me completely, I got extremely sick and I really thought I was going to die."

"What happened?"

"I don't really know," She admitted sheepishly, "Woke up one morning, covered in my own vomit and blood and realized how hungry I was. Like, I was _so _hungry I seriously thought I was going to just keel over and die. I remember one of my comrades had taught me how to make a bow and arrow in case of an emergency, so I did that and went out into the woods. It took me forever, but I finally killed a rabbit and I eventually got pretty good at it."

"You learned how to survive on your own."

She shrugged, "I always knew how to survive on my own, it was just a matter of having the will to live, I suppose."

Bucky observed her closely and noticed how she was glaring down at a scar that ran all the way from the inside of her wrist to her elbow. The mark had turned into an opalescent colour and judging by the way it seemed to actually dig into her skin, it had been a very deep wound, never fully healing. He wondered how she had acquired this wound and how badly it must have hurt her.

"You think you're a horrible person," She spoke quietly, "—but you had no control over what you were doing; I did though. I had a choice and I chose to kill people because I was good at it, I was really good at it and if I didn't know any better, I would say I was born solely for the purpose to kill."

"Maybe I was too."

"No Bucky, you never had a choice. You were someone's son, a big brother, a best friend and you were a loving person who cared about those people. You protected them and they loved you just as much as you loved them and that was all ripped away from you. They took away your memories and gave you no other option; you weren't born a monster and even after everything you've been through, you are still not a monster."

"Then neither are you," He said, looking straight into her eyes.

"You don't know what I've done."

"No, but I see the guilt in your eyes every day. If you were really a bad person, you would not feel regret for your actions in the past."

She opened her mouth to protest once again, but he immediately cut her off.

"I have seen my fair share of monsters," He gazed at her with an unreadable expression, "—and you definitely aren't one of them."


	4. The Resentful

"This is boring."

Valeriya raises her eyebrows at the man sitting across from her; frost is starting to form on his pinched eyebrows. He looks irritated as he stares back at her, disregarding the fishing pole he is holding in his right hand.

She nearly laughs at his disgruntled attitude.

"Then it should be right up your alley," She smirks, noticing the way his stormy blue eyes narrow even more.

After spending a little over a week with Bucky, she had learned that she could get away with pushing his buttons and annoying him. It was entertaining and maybe a little messed up, but she hated seeing the sadness in his eyes some days and she noticed a change in him every time she said something stupid. She never pushed him that much, just enough to get an eye roll or a quiet groan from him, much to Valeriya's amusement.

She had also learned that some days were better than others for him, and she knew on those good days it was alright to tease him and joke around a little more than usual. He never smiled at anything she said though, and even on his good days he would still sometimes refuse to say a single word to her. It's not like she really cared, Valeriya knew she couldn't force him to talk or remember his memories, so she usually just left him to his own thoughts.

"Have you ever caught any fish doing this?"

"You've never heard of ice fishing?" She asks, knowing it's a stupid question, "People do it all of the time."

"You did not answer my question."

Valeriya scowls at the large man, "_No, _I have never caught any fish, but maybe today will be my lucky day. Don't rain on my parade, Bucky."

"I am only being logical."

"Well, I've had enough of your logic, Mr. Spock."

She was almost positive he rolled his eyes, but she wasn't quite sure and resumed the task at hand. The two of them grew silent, not really knowing what to say to one another. Things had been slightly awkward between them ever since Bucky had confessed his story about the baby he had encountered on one of his missions and he hadn't told her any of his other memories since then. It had taken a toll on him, Valeriya knew that much, and she could see how he was starting to have trouble sleeping or how he would daze off more often than ever. She knew better than to push him, knowing that it could possibly trigger something within his mind and cause a violent outburst. All of her self-defense classes she had taken before becoming an agent most likely wouldn't have been able to save her if Bucky decided to unexpectedly attack her; she'd certainly be able to hold him off for a while, but that bionic arm could easily overpower her at any given moment.

Valeriya tried not to think of that scenario even though she knew fully well that it could always happen.

"I remember when Clint taught me how to fish," She breaks the tense silence, easily catching his attention, "We were hiking through this mountain to find an item that had been stolen from a government base and I wouldn't stop complaining about how hungry I was; I'm pretty sure he was about to murder me and make it look like an accident. He made this makeshift fishing rod, told me how to use it, and then just left for an hour to set up camp and map out our exact coordinates. When he came back, I hadn't caught anything and I had eaten all of the granola bars we packed; I don't think I had ever seen him so pissed off before."

She laughs and the noise takes Bucky by surprise, "He put in a request to Fury asking for a new partner to go on missions with him after that. Then Natasha got stuck with me and there were so many times where I really did think she was going to murder me in my sleep. Then there was this one incident with Maria Hill where I accidentally tazered her, but she kind of deserved that one– and Agent Coulson and I never really got anything finished when we worked together because we were always talking instead. Director Fury stopped trying to pair me up with other agents after that and I started doing missions all alone, something he wasn't really too keen on. It was nice though, being alone on some of those really gory missions and not having to worry if one of my comrades was going to die right in front of my eyes. I don't really even know why SHIELD didn't fire me sooner; I was always so bad when it came to working with other people."

"You were one of their best agents," He states, "I read your file, you've killed over four dictators in the last six years, captured three of the highest ranking members of the Mexican drug cartel, and helped overthrow the Libyan regime, killing Muammar Gadaffi in the process. You've done hundreds of interrogations and never failed a single one and the names I saw on your list of assassinations were quite impressive. I was surprised that Hydra had never given me the orders to find you and kill you; next to Romanoff and Rogers, you're one of the most well-known agents of SHIELD."

"Wow," She cocks her head to the side, "You must have been in for a bigger surprise when you finally tracked me down and found someone like me instead of Natasha's little protégé or whatever. Were you expecting someone entirely different? Someone who wasn't so weak and emotional?"

Bucky detected a hint of bitterness in her voice as she mentioned her old comrade.

"No, I remembered you from the helicarrier, I was already aware of your appearance and personality."

"I thought you would have gone back to the Hydra base," She admitted timidly, though he couldn't quite blame her, "Have them wipe your mind or something."

Bucky knew that she was constantly walking on eggshells every time she was around him, wary that she would say something stupid and he would snap and attack her. To be honest, even _he_ was afraid that he might unintentionally hurt her. There were days where he would lock himself in her bedroom, forcing her to sleep on the couch instead. Those were the days where his head felt like it would explode at any given moment and anything she said would just make something inside of him break and he would kill her. It didn't really cross his mind all that often, but he just _knew _he'd be able to end her life before she knew what was even happening. Much to his despair, he had even dreamed about it one night– he had snapped her neck and the lifeless look in her dark eyes had been enough to make him avoid her for the entire day.

_It had felt so real._

The sensors in his bionic arm started to whir as he gripped her slender throat tightly, his eardrums twitched as he heard the gruesome noise of bones crushing beneath his hand, he had felt the warm blood trickle from the corner of her mouth and right onto his metal appendage, and he had certainly witnessed the complete and utter fear in her eyes right before he ended her life.

It had only been a nightmare though, and he promised himself it would not become a reality.

"I did not return to Hydra after that day."

"I don't blame you."

He doesn't respond, not really wanting to talk about what happened in D.C. anymore.

"I told you about my comrades, what about you though? Did you ever work with anyone on your missions?"

"No, I worked alone," He answers shortly, "I was given a... _comrade_ on one mission a long time ago, but he was compromised by one of our targets and I was given the orders to kill him as well as the girl."

"Oh," Valeriya states lamely, "I'm sorry."

He lifts his shoulder up into a shrug, "Don't be, I did what I had to do. I regret it, but I have learned to live with it. Clearly you have not learned to live with your regrets."

She feels her mouth drop open a little before she can even stop it, "Excuse me?"

"I think you heard me."

Then her shock gradually fades into something else– _anger_.

"Why does it even matter to you?"

"It eats away at you... I know it is all you ever think about. You need to learn to forget about it, move on with life."

"Maybe I don't want to learn to live with all of the mistakes I've made!" She sneers, standing up from her spot on the ice, "Maybe I don't care about learning to accept myself for who I am because I know I deserve all of the pain I feel!"

"You think that is the best way to live your life?" He asks apathetically, "Torturing yourself every day because of what happened in the past? That's stupid."

She lets out an incredulous laugh, "Live _my_ life? You call this a life? Look around, James. Did you ever stop to think for one second that I didn't choose to live here? Do you think I just woke up one day and decided to move to the middle of nowhere? I was sent here as punishment for what I had done!"

He merely blinks, surprised by her outburst.

He didn't even think it was possible for Valeriya to be so... _infuriated_.

"I did something horrible, okay? SHIELD... they found out about something I had done in the past and they found it to be so unforgivable that they decided it was only best to punish me by isolating me from the rest of the world. So I'm sorry that I can't learn to live with the things I've done, I'm sorry that I'm not like you and I just can't forget those things. Do you even know how hard it is _not_ to think about all of the mistakes I've made when I live in the loneliest place on Earth? You have no idea what I go through and why I feel the way I do!"

Valeriya was crying and Bucky almost felt bad.

Almost.

She scoffs when he doesn't answer and merely turns away from him, ready to walk back to the house. Before she can get very far, Bucky easily reaches her in a few strides and catches her wrist in his hand. The scarf she wore was pulled over her mouth and nose, but he could tell she was frowning just by the look in her eyes.

He glares at her, not really caring if he frightens her anymore.

"Yes," He answers quietly, "I do know what it's like."

Bucky feels her tense up at his words; clearly she was surprised by his answer.

"You might think I do not feel certain things, and maybe you are right, but I know what it is like to feel lonely and what it is like to feel suffocated by your own thoughts. You think I do not understand the concept of loneliness and what it does to you? How it can turn someone into something they are not? I have spent the majority of my life in a holding cell or the cryo, I was _bred _to be nothing more than a weapon and Hydra made sure that I was aware of that. If they were to know I was feeling any emotion at all, except anger, they would beat me until I did not have the strength to feel anything; maybe if they were feeling considerate they would put me through electroshock treatments instead."

"James, I—"

"I do not have all of my memories," He interrupts her without a second thought, "but the ones I do have I make sure to cling on to– no matter how painful they might be. I know they helped shaped me into the person I am today and while that might not be a good thing, it reassures me that I am still alive just like you. I have more blood on my hands than you could ever imagine and I have done things that I probably won't ever be able to talk about, so _yes, _I do know what it is like. I might not know the exact thoughts that go through your mind, but do not make the assumption that I have never felt the same emotions that you constantly feel because sometimes loneliness and sadness and pain are the only things I feel and I do not know why it hurts me more than anything Hydra ever could have done to me."

It was probably the most he had spoken to her besides his story he told her a week ago about the baby, and it makes her feel awful.

She notices the way his eyes seemed to gloss over, but he also seems to be so irritated at the same time.

Valeriya drops her head in shame, not having the slightest clue of what to say to him.

"I am envious of you right now."

"Why?" She frowns.

His fingers tightened around her wrist, "You have spent all this time wishing you could forget your memories, while I wish I could remember all of mine... if anything, you should feel grateful. You should be grateful that you still have your own mind and it was not pulled apart and tinkered around with like a toy. Do you know what it is like to have everything that makes you who you are just ripped away from you?"

Tears start to obstruct her vision, making his harsh face blurry as she shakes her head.

"No, I do not."

Suddenly, she feels like an idiot and wishes she could take back all of her words she had spoken to Bucky out of anger. Why did she have to be foolish and make such stupid assumptions? Of course he had experienced the same type of pain she had felt, if not amplified tenfold. Working for Hydra... it was all he had ever really known; he didn't even have a choice.

Before she can apologize, Bucky turns his back to her and starts back to her house.

She falls to her knees in the snow and tries her hardest to stop her tears.

* * *

Valeriya had been staring at Bucky's unclothed back for about ten minutes now, trying to think of something to say.

She stood a few feet behind him as he sat hunched over on the floor in front of the fireplace, attempting to warm himself up after their little adventure in ice fishing. Every now and then, his human hand would reach out towards the flames and he would relax as the heat spread throughout his entire body. He had shed most of his clothes, trading them for the old sweatpants she had let him borrow, not seeming to have any problem with walking around the house half naked. It's not like Valeriya minded or anything, but men in Oymyakon _definitely _didn't look anything like Bucky– what with his powerful build and prominent facial features.

"I know you have been standing there for approximately ten minutes now," His voice, as quiet as always, startles her, "You can sit with me, I do not have any intentions of hurting you or getting angry with you again."

As if to prove his point, he scoots over and places his metal hand on the floor next to him, gesturing for her to sit with him.

Valeriya obeys and hesitantly shuffles closer to him, crossing her legs as she settles down next to him. They don't say anything to one another and as the silence continues, Valeriya starts to become increasingly aware of the tension that fills the room. Neither one of them had even spared each other a glance since they had gotten home and Bucky wondered if he had maybe crossed some sort of line with her. Some of the things he had said were harsh, he knew this, but he didn't even know where the words had come from. He couldn't even remember a time where he had spoken to someone about the emotions he wasn't allowed to feel when he worked for Hydra and how he couldn't help it sometimes.

A part of him had just become so accustomed to keeping it all to himself.

It felt... _nice_ to talk about it for once.

Valeriya shifts around nervously and Bucky notices this from his peripheral vision.

"You have something you want to talk about."

It's not a question, Bucky just knows.

"I'm sorry," She glances at him anxiously, "– for everything I said earlier and making those stupid assumptions. I don't know why I said it... I don't know why I say half the things I do, to be honest."

"You do not have a filter on your mouth?" He guesses, growing confused when he hears Valeriya laugh softly.

"I'll work on that," She visibly relaxes, "Really though... I'm sorry Bucky. What I said– it was careless and ignorant of me."

He shrugs, "I do not want you to think of me as something I am not; that I am still the same man who almost killed you on the helicarrier."

"I know you're not that same man Bucky, I promise," She gives him a reassuring smile, "If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now."

"That day in D.C. – I did not want to kill you. I was given the orders to kill Steve Rogers and anyone else who got in my way. You got in my way and I knew I had to kill you but I didn't want to, I didn't mean to choke you the way I did."

"You were listening to orders and I didn't fight back, you can't blame yourself for that."

"I'll never forgive myself for hurting you, Valeriya."

Her mouth drops open at this confession; she didn't think Bucky felt so strongly about what had happened that day. After a moment of silence, she gazes up at his face and notices the sincere expression upon his features. He looks like he's genuinely sorry for strangling Valeriya and almost killing her with his bionic hand. Then his eyes grow wide and frantic for a moment and Valeriya knows that he's thinking hard about something.

"I tried to find you," Bucky admits, clearly panicked, "You fell from the helicarrier and I couldn't find you in the water—I found Steve but I couldn't find—"

"Hey," Valeriya gently shushes him, "Don't think too hard about it, okay? Sam found me underneath all of the rubble; I'm fine, okay?"

"I tried to kill you, it's not okay."

"You might have wanted to kill me, but you didn't and I'm still here. It's actually kind of bad news for you because now you're here and you're stuck with me and I'd give it a couple more weeks before you start to regret not killing me earlier."

"I doubt it, I do not know what I would do if you died."

"Aw!" She grins, "That was so sweet."

"No," He nearly rolls his eyes, "I do not know how to hunt and would most likely die of starvation if _you_ were to die."

Her mouth drops open and she glares at him, "Was that a joke?"

"No, it was the truth."

Bucky turns his head to face her, watching as her dark eyes narrow at him and she presses her lips together. Upon further inspection, he noticed how she is suppressing a smile and that she isn't genuinely mad at his statement, she is merely pretending. He feels his own lips twitch as hers finally turn upwards into a grin, causing the corners of her eyes to crease with happiness. A soft, breathy laugh pushes its way past her lips and she shakes her head slightly, turning her attention back to the fire in front of her.

"What you said... about clinging onto memories no matter how painful they might be," She suddenly speaks, "How do you do it without letting the pain consume you?"

"I do not know how to explain without confusing you. I guess I just remind myself occasionally that those memories exist, that I did some horrible things to innocent people who did not deserve what they got. I let myself feel the pain of my mistakes, but I do not let it cripple me. It was in the past and there is nothing I can do to change it, I have to move on and focus on regaining the good memories. I am still hopeful that I will regain memories of my family and my friends which is why I do not let the pain consume me."

Valeriya stares up at him, "You are so strong and brave."

"So are you."

"Not like you," She whispers with a small shrug, "I'm not really that strong at all; I just… _pretend_ that I am."

"I don't think that's true at all."

"Why do you think that?" She asks, genuinely curious as to what he's going to say.

"Because you wouldn't be alive right now if you weren't strong," He answers, glancing down at her for a quick second, "You're a survivor… you always have been and it takes strength to survive in a world this dark and cruel."


	5. The Condemned

Some nights are harder than others for Valeriya.

During these particular nights she would toss and turn underneath her furry blankets, sometimes she would cry out of pure frustration, and when she finally managed to fall asleep on rare occasions, her dreams were ravaged by gory memories. Valeriya never screamed when these nightmares occurred, but it would get harder for her breathing would start to get more ragged and sharp, as though she was having trouble getting oxygen into her lungs. Sweat would start to form on her hairline and tears would leak from the corners of her eyes—but there was never anything she could do. Her mind had become a cage and when she would have these terrible nightmares, there was nothing she could do to wake herself up and break out of that mental state. Finally, when she would open her eyes and all of the memories gradually faded away, she would lie in bed crying quietly, paralyzed by fear. Her heart would pound against her chest so hard and she could hear it throbbing in her ears.

Tonight was one of those nights.

She couldn't even remember what her nightmare had been about—she rarely ever did remember—but as she awoke with a start, she couldn't stop the tears that slid down her cheek and onto the pillow. A loud whimper made its way past her lips as an ache started to form in the back of her head; memories from her past flooded her mind like a tidal wave. She sat up and crossed her legs, resting her elbows on her knees and dropping her aching head into her hands. She tried her hardest to muffle the pained noises that were coming from her mouth, remembering that she wasn't the only one in the house anymore.

Clearly she didn't try hard enough.

Valeriya heard a small creek and looked at the figure that was standing in her doorway, a frown etched onto his stubbly face as he observed her cautiously.

"I heard a noise—thought someone broke in," He explains quietly.

She tried her hardest to speak, but her mouth was failing her and all that came out was another whimper. She quickly looked away from him and wiped furiously at the tears on her cheeks, hating herself for letting Bucky see her like this. With a deep sigh and a forced smile, she finally looked him in the eyes.

"I'm fine," Valeriya mentally curses herself when her weak voice cracks, "Just go back to sleep."

He observes her for another moment, noticing her disheveled condition and the way her dark eyes are filled with complete horror. Bucky cocks his head to the side and gives her a questioning look, one she doesn't notice in the darkness of her room.

"You do not look 'fine'," He argues, "You are hurt."

Valeriya blinked as he stepped closer until he was right next to her bed, he swiped her lighter from the nightstand and sat down next to her. He suddenly grasped her wrist in his hand and flicked the lighter open, lighting one of the candles on her little nightstand. His eyes examined the newly acquired scratches on her arms, gently turning her arm around as he searched for more. A frown found its way onto Valeriya's face; she had never harmed herself while she was sleeping. She easily pulled her wrist from his grasp and stared down at her arms in shock, most of the damage had been done near her scars on her forearms.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she watches a drop of blood slowly trickle across one of her scars.

"Valeriya."

Her head snaps up, not even aware that Bucky had been talking to her.

"I asked if you had any medical supplies."

"The-uh," She swallows the lump in her throat and nods, "T-The mirror in the bathroom."

Without another word, the large man stands up from her bed and leaves the room in search of some bandages. Valeriya closes her eyes and tries to calm her erratic heartbeat, but she can still feel the warm liquid on her arms and it brings back dreadful memories of what those Hydra scientists had done to her.

_'Make it stop... make it stop... make it—'_

Something ice cold lands on her shoulder, sending an odd sensation throughout her entire body.

She opens her eyes and soaks in the expression on Bucky's face; his eyebrows are pinched together and a soft look is in his dark blue eyes. His metal hand was touching her shoulder; his fingertips lightly digging into her skin as he tries to pull her away from the dark memories that consumed her mind.

"You have a fear of blood," He says as he wipes at the red liquid on her arm with a damp rag, "How were you able to complete your missions if you could not handle the sight of blood?"

Valeriya knew from the tone of his voice that he wasn't insulting her; he legitimately sounded curious.

"It's just my blood that I can't stand seeing," She explains, "It triggers bad memories."

He reaches for the disinfectant in the first aid kit, thinking hard about her words. Was it similar to the same way seeing Steve Rogers triggered some bad memories for him? Surely there had been a few pleasant memories thrown into the mix, but the bad mostly outweighed the good, he had come to find. Bucky observes her closely as he continues to fix up her minor wounds—and it was the first time he _really _observed Valeriya in such a vulnerable state.

She looked unbelievably exhausted, but Bucky knew that it wasn't the type of exhaustion that could simply be cured from a good night of sleep. It almost reminded him of the way he felt after his electroshock treatments... _empty_. Her eyes were dark and gloomy—maybe even a little dazed. The bottom of her eyelids were rimmed with a deep red colour and he could have sworn she was about to cry again when her eyes filled with water. He noticed how her bow-shaped lips were pulled into an uncharacteristic grimace. Her breathing pattern had become shallow and almost panicked, but she struggled to calm herself down and Bucky wondered if it was because of his presence.

He frowns and gives her a questioning look, silently asking her if this happens a lot.

Valeriya merely shakes her head and gestures him to continue his actions.

Bucky remembered all of the nightmares he had when he was going through withdrawals; it had happened maybe a week after escaping Hydra's clutches. He had gotten so used to his electroshock treatments, being in the cryo, and always taking orders from Pierce and his handlers; it had been tough not doing any of that. The withdrawals had made him an entirely different person for a few weeks. He had isolated himself from the rest of the city, terrified that if he didn't he would just go on a violent rampage and do something he'd regret later on.

The nightmares had been horrendous though.

Mostly memories of the war and his scrawny friend, but sometimes he would dream of his time with Hydra.

Those were the most painful.

He would see his victims' faces or sometimes even his own face in the reflection of the broken mirror that had been in his holding cell. There was always so much blood, mostly coming from the bullet wound of someone he had just assassinated. He would sometimes dream of the experiments they performed on his bionic arm and how the pain always felt so real. The scientists had always reassured him that it was just a metal arm and the pain was only in his head, but now he knew they had always been lying. He understood that they had placed sensors all throughout his arm, making it feel like a regular human arm most of the time.

Sometimes even he forgot that it wasn't a real arm and would oftentimes have to remind himself of its own strength.

"How did you know I was hurt?"

"My senses are heightened," He explains shortly, "I was trained to see very well in the dark so I could easily locate my targets."

"Oh… you were given the same serum that Steve was given?"

His grip on her wrist tightens and Valeriya can feel the way his entire body tenses at the mention of his forgotten friend. Bucky doesn't even realize that he's hurting her until she makes a small noise—somewhere between a pained whimper and an angry grunt.

"No, I was not given the same serum," He scoffs, "The scientists working for Hydra could not replicate the same formula as the one given to… Steve Rogers. They created a different one and while the effects weren't as strong as intended, the serum certainly worked and improved my strength as well as senses."

Bucky looks up from bandaging her wrist and peeks at her face for a second, searching for any signs of fear that might have been there, but he still didn't find any and he continued to wrap the gauze around her wounds. The cuts weren't deep at all, but helping her was also helping Bucky in a weird way. The last seventy years had been spent hurting and killing others when he wasn't kept in the cryo; he couldn't remember a time where he had actually helped someone who was hurt.

It felt nice… in a strange, unfamiliar way.

"Was it hard to run away from Hydra and not go back?"

"I do not want to answer your questions right now."

"I'm sorry, I didn't..." She trails off sheepishly, her cheeks turning red.

Then he feels a dull ache in his chest—_guilt_.

Bucky Barnes was trying his hardest to be a normal human being again and he knew that Valeriya was only trying to help him, but he was being stubborn and he knew it. She was attempting to get him to open up, to release all of the pain and anger he had kept bottled up for the longest time. It's not like she was asking him to do something terrible, she was just asking for his assistance on his long road to recovery and he was being difficult.

He sighs as he thinks hard about her question, "Sometimes it was very difficult; I mostly wanted to go back to kill every last one of them, but then I would remember the things they did to me and the things they had me do and I knew that I could not return. If I were to go back, I would have fallen into the same routine I had gotten used to and I did not want that to happen."

"You don't have to worry about that anymore," She murmurs, staring up him with those dark, tired eyes.

Bucky doesn't say anything as he finishes fixing her up and merely disregards her statement instead.

"You are tired, sleep now."

He stands up, gathering the medical supplies and putting them back in the first aid kit.

"You can stay if you want," Valeriya suggests timidly, "Looks like you haven't really been getting much sleep either; maybe sleeping in an actual bed will help. I'll stay on my side, I promise."

He pauses in the doorway, seriously contemplating turning around and getting into her warm bed. James turns his head and gazes at her over his shoulder; she is still sitting up in bed, looking up at him with raised eyebrows and an expectant look on her face. He notices the way the light hits her bare skin, making it a radiant golden colour—or how her cheeks are still wet and blotchy from the tears she had previously wiped away. The tip of her nose is red and she sniffles every few seconds; her nose stuffy and full of mucus and she breathes softly through her mouth. Her small frame is still trembling and Bucky isn't sure if she's cold or scared; who knows? Maybe it's both. Wavy strands of dark hair had fallen out of her French braid and were now sticking in all types of different directions.

Valeriya Checkhov looked like a human disaster.

For some peculiar reason, Bucky thought she looked beautiful like this.

He cocks his head to the side as he continues to observe her; it's strange seeing someone who's supposed to be so strong in such a vulnerable position. Bucky knew it would have been the right thing to do to stay with her, try to comfort her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

But he doesn't.

Bucky leaves the room without another word or so much as a glance in her direction.

* * *

"Have some breakfast, I know it doesn't look that appetizing, but it's actually pretty good."

Valeriya gestures towards the pot on the stove; it contains some kind of oatmeal looking substance and Bucky doesn't even question it as he ladles a few scoops into his bowl. He sits across from her at the wooden table and hastily eats the strange substance, not even realizing how hungry he is until now. She was right; even though the food didn't look appetizing, it definitely wasn't that bad. It almost had a familiar taste and Bucky racked his brain for any memory of eating the weird looking food… maybe his mother had made it for him once as a child? Or maybe he had made it for his scrawny friend at one point?

He wasn't sure and he decided not to push it, knowing it would result in a headache.

"So I know you came here to find out more about your past and to get away from the city and you didn't really feel like you had anywhere else to go, but I could really use your help with a few things. I figured it was the least you could do since I'm letting you live in my humble abode for free."

Bucky doesn't miss the way her lips pull into a smirk.

"What do you need me to do?" He asks warily, immediately assuming the worst.

She shrugs innocently, "There are a few areas on the ceiling in the barn that need to be patched up and I'm too short to reach that high. Also, it would be great if you could help me move some of the heavy furniture around in here too; we can move the couch closer to the fireplace so you stay warm at night."

"Okay," He simply nods, shoveling another spoonful of the mush in his mouth. Her tasks sound easy enough and she had a point; he couldn't just invade her home and do nothing but sleep and eat all of her food.

"I'm going hunting later; we're a bit low on meat. If you want you can come?"

"I do not hunt animals."

'_Just humans_,' He thought bitterly.

"Fair enough," She shrugs, "Just figured you'd be better than I am at tracking."

"I doubt that," He scoffs, "You seem to do just fine without me."

Valeriya raised her eyebrows at the strange man sitting across from her; why was he always being so hard on himself? Had Hydra really put him down so many times that he had become so insecure? She quickly looks away from him and glares down at her hands, trying her hardest to forget about that dreadful organization. It had nearly been the death of her, along with its awful people and she wished she could erase it from her mind. Though she had only been one of their prisoners for about a month, it had been the most horrifying experience of her life.

She gazes at Bucky with a frown.

Valeriya couldn't even fathom what they had to this man in all of those years they used him.

"When do we start?" He inquires, nearly going into soldier mode as he looked at her for his orders.

She smiles softly instead, "Whenever you want."

They start as soon as the sun starts to rise in the foggy sky; Bucky listens attentively as Valeriya explains how to patch up the little holes that were starting to form in the ceiling. It's a tiny barn, just big enough for her horses and maybe even a few cows if she were to purchase anymore livestock. Enormous bags of horse feed are stacked in one of the corners of the barn alongside a few large pails, most likely used for fetching water for the horses. Every now and then, Bucky's attention would direct to the horses as they would neigh loudly, interrupting Valeriya from whatever instructions she was giving him.

As if he even needed her instructions.

She watched as he effortlessly patched up one of the holes, his eyebrows furrowed together in deep concentration. Valeriya hopped onto the large stack of horse feed and crossed her legs, noticing how his hands moved swiftly and efficiently.

"Thanks for doing this, Bucky."

"You're… welcome," He retorts uncomfortably, as if he thinks he incapable of earning someone's gratitude.

"So…" Valeriya plays with a loose thread on her coat, "Is there anything you need?"

He spares her a short lived glance before shaking his head slightly, immediately returning back to work like it's his first priority. She takes this as her cue to leave and saunters out of the warm barn and into the freezing cold snow, not even noticing Bucky watching her as she walks away. After pulling on her fur coat and slinging her bow and quiver of arrows across her back, she decides it's a good time to go hunting. A lot of rabbits are usually out during this time of day—the twilight hours of both sunrise and sunset.

Though Valeriya doesn't enjoy the actual killing part of hunting, she found the experience of being out in the woods by herself to be quite peaceful. Her entire life, at least from what she could remember, had consisted of constantly being surrounded by chaos and aggression. Not even knowing what happened to her parents, she mostly grew up in foster homes and sometimes even on the cold streets of New York. She had to learn how to fight and steal just to live, but after being found by SHIELD, she promised she would never put herself through any of that ever again.

Valeriya could understand why most people would hate living in a village like Oymyakon, the weather being the number one reason, of course. Most people would probably despise the isolation the cold village had to offer, but she found solace in it. She took pleasure in knowing that there were no longer any expectations that she was supposed to meet, or dangerous missions that she had to complete. Valeriya was at her own will to do whatever she wanted without being watched and for the first time in god knows how long, she was free from any organizations that wanted to use her solely for violence.

She watches the little white cloud of her own breath disperse in front of her as she exhales softly, loading her bow with an arrow as she hears a creature skitter around a few yards in front of her. Of course it was another rabbit; she rolled her eyes upon this observation. She shouldn't even be complaining, most people were lucky to get any meat at all during the winter, let alone as much as Valeriya was able to obtain.

There are only so many recipes that contain rabbit though, and she was starting to get a little sick of it.

The former assassin continues to hunt quietly and about two hours later, she has a string with seven rabbits attached to it. She had prayed for a reindeer, but knew that it was no use—she hadn't even seen one in months. It definitely would have been nice to have the extra meat, especially now that Bucky was staying with her, but she knew she couldn't be picky at a time like this.

'_Be lucky you have any meat_,' she reminds herself as she quietly walks back to her little cabin.

She peers into the barn first, checking to see if Bucky is still in there, but he isn't and all of the holes on the ceiling are securely covered with plaster and have been smoothed out to make it look like it had never been damaged. Valeriya smiles and exits the small building, heading towards her house in hopes of warming herself up and filling her empty stomach. She can hear someone rummaging around in her bedroom and assumes it's Bucky, maybe looking for something in particular. After setting her weapons on the counter as well as the rabbits, she ventures into her bedroom to see what's going on.

The door creaks as she pushes it, instantly catching Bucky's attention.

His eyes are dark and narrowed; his metal hand is gripping one of his handguns and Valeriya can see that he's in one of his soldier modes that she's only witnessed a few times. His entire body is rigid and tense, his bionic arm raised as he points the barrel of the gun in her direction—more specifically, right at her forehead. Valeriya doesn't say a word, knowing anything can trigger him and she doesn't necessarily feel like getting a bullet lodged in her brain. After a few moments of complete silence and staring each other down, he finally relaxes—but a new emotion suddenly floods his stormy eyes. He looks frantic, like he's searching desperately for something he has just lost and is determined to get it back. Valeriya remains perfectly stagnant as he slowly steps closer to her; if he's trying to intimidate her, it isn't going to work. While Bucky can be extremely intimidating and… brooding at times, she knew that he wouldn't shoot her or harm her in any other way.

Valeriya hoped her instincts weren't wrong and watched him attentively as he stopped right in front of her; she could feel his erratic breaths hitting her forehead.

"Bucky," She says softly, "Give me the gun."

He frowns and looks down at the weapon he's grasping tightly; a look of confusion spreads across his face, as if he wasn't aware that he was even holding it. Slowly, but surely, he continues to step forward until he is standing right in front of her; he reluctantly hands over the weapon and she places it on her dresser.

Valeriya quickly takes in her surroundings; clothes are strewn across the room and the door that leads to her bathroom had been ripped off its hinges—but it's nothing that couldn't be cleaned or fixed up.

"Did I–" He lets out a panicked gasp as he stares at her with wide eyes, "Did I hurt you? Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine Bucky, really."

He nods, still unconvinced by her reassuring words.

"What happened, Bucky? Did something trigger a bad memory?"

He looks up from his metal hand and stares at her, his eyes are still wide and full of panic; another deep breath pushes its way past his lips as he tries to calm himself. Hesitantly and carefully, Valeriya steps a little closer to Bucky; his eyes are focused and his posture is rigid as he observes her movements closely. After a few seconds, she gently grabs his right hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, as if she's reassuring him that everything is going to be alright.

"Where were you?" He demands, his voice quiet and shallow.

"I went hunting," She frowns, "Remember? I told you during breakfast that I was going to hunting because we were starting to get low on meat. Is that what this is ab—"

"I came back in after I was done in the barn and you were gone, I thought..."

"You thought something had happened to me," She finishes his sentence, a sad smile tugging at her lips.

He shakes his head, "I-I thought you left me or you were still working with SHIELD and—"

"Bucky," She gently stops him, placing her hand on his cheek, "I'm not going anywhere, _I promise_. Even if I was going to leave, which I'm not, it's not like I'd get very far without dying of hypothermia. I'm here for you until you don't want me anymore or until you don't want to be here."

Her hand slowly travels up his stubbly cheek and to his hairline, carefully pushing a few strands away from his eyes. Bucky merely blinks, surprised by the comforting touch.

"You're not… _you're not going to leave_?" He asks doubtfully.

"No," Valeriya strokes his cheek with her thumb tenderly, "I'm not leaving; I care about you Bucky, I really do. You understand that, _right_?"

"I-I think so."

Valeriya nods and gives him a real smile before turning around to leave him so he can collect his thoughts.

Bucky quickly stops her though, his metal hand shooting out to grab her fleshy one. His grip is light and he makes sure not to squeeze her dainty fingers out of fear he would merely crush them without even trying.

She looks up at him kindly and expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

"I want to talk."

"Okay," She says calmly, "What do you want to talk about?"

"I want to know what Hydra wanted from you—why you were important to them," He grimaces, "I want to know what they did to you and _why_."

"I wouldn't even know where to start," She whispers, carefully pulling her hand away from his and sitting on the edge of the bed. There's this sad expression on her face as she recalls what had happened to her… all of those horrible things they had done to her.

Bucky sits next to her apprehensively, "I would prefer it if you started from the beginning."


End file.
